


pre-romance

by captaindora



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, No Magic AU, just a little sweet nothing really, shameless fluff so sweet it'll make your teeth hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 11:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14715167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaindora/pseuds/captaindora
Summary: A mystery pianist that appears in Marinette's building; a few notes exchanged between them; and music and romance filling the airbased on this tumblr post: http://hardertofind.tumblr.com/post/126244502008/one-of-my-neighbours-slipped-this-under-my-door





	pre-romance

Someone in the building was playing the piano. Marinette heard the sound as soon as she turned off the sewing machine, her room returning to silence. The sounds of music were faint, but clear. Marinette held up the crème-colored summer dress she’s been working on, checked if the stitching looked well, then put it on her lap, absent-mindedly, and closed her eyes, her hands caressing the soft fabric, as she sat very still, trying to better make out sounds of the music. She’s never heard any of her neighbors play the piano before; she didn’t know anyone in the building even had a piano.

Curious, Marinette tried to identify where the sound was coming from, but no matter how still she sat, almost holding her breath, hoping that would make her better identify the direction the music was played, she couldn’t say it for sure. Still, she didn’t want to give up, so she decided to check if it would be easier to do from the outside. She stood up, putting the dress on the table next to the sewing machine, and walked over to the balcony. Opening the balcony door, Marinette stepped outside into the calm spring afternoon.

A whisper of cold breeze brushed against her cheek, and she took a deep breath, chilly air filling her lungs and making her feel refreshed after working in a staffed room for so long. The day was cool and transparent, bathed in sunlight, with little puffy clouds running fast in the blue sky.

Just as she hoped, the sounds of the piano were clearer outside. Finally, Marinette was able to make out the direction they was coming from -  the music was still a bit muffled, probably by the windows in the player’s room, but she was sure it was the apartment just below hers.

 Marinette leaned against the doorframe and stood still, listening to the pianist working their way through Debussy. She was no expert, but she could say the player was proficient. But however good their manner of execution was, the feeling behind the music was the thing that made Marinette stand there, as if rooted, even after the chilly air turned her hands cold. There was a sense of peaceful happiness in the music, and Marinette closed her eyes, feeling the sunlight on her eyelids and calmness in her heart.

Losing track of time, she only came back from her dreamy state after the music died. She waited for a minute, but the little concert was over, and so she returned to her room, her fingers numb with cold, and as she closed the balcony door, she felt a hint of sadness, coming back to reality from a kinder world she couldn’t help but imagine just a few moments ago.

It disappeared almost immediately, as Marinette shook her head slightly and headed for the kitchen. However good this improvised concert was, now that she was back to reality, she was rather cold. She needed some hot tea, and the warmth of her apartment was so welcoming. Yet it was nothing to the happiness she felt on the balcony, listening to the sounds of piano played by a person she never even met.

 

She refused to admit it even to herself, but she spend the next day listening if the pianist will play again, but they didn’t, and finally she stopped waiting, telling herself that little miracles are not meant to happen every day.

 

But then she heard the piano again, sounding just as wonderful as before, and she opened the balcony door again and stood in the doorframe, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders so that she won’t feel cold and could listen to the music as long as possible.

Later that day she caught herself humming the melody the pianist played that day and smiled.

 

Later that week, she heard the music again. Hurriedly, she opened the balcony door and just listened for a few minutes, but then another idea crossed her mind. She walked over to her table, took a piece of paper and a pen and stood, unmoving, for a few seconds, tapping the pen on the table, trying to come up with the best way to write down the thing she wanted.

“A humble request to the pianist,” she finally wrote. “Liebestraum No 3 in A flat”.

Before she could change her mind, Marinette quickly left her apartment, taking the stairs to get one floor down, and walked to the door that mirrored the door of her apartment. The hall was silent and she could hear the faint sounds of piano behind the door. So she got that right, she thought with a little satisfied smile, it was the apartments she needed.

She bent down quickly and slid the note under the door, then headed back for the stairs as fast as she could.

Oh course, she was curious to know who the mysterious pianist was; that was only natural. She could’ve called the door and introduced herself, or she could’ve waited to see if the person playing would come out upon receiving her note and catch a glimpse of them. Yet she didn’t want to. The whole thing felt slightly unreal, as if it happened in another, softer universe, and she didn’t want to ruin it. Somehow she thought that if she introduced herself or if she saw the person playing the piano, the spell would be broken.

The spell was too good to be broken.

Marinette walked back in her room and headed for the balcony. The apartment below was silent and she stood, waiting, for a minute, and then there was music. The sounds were clearer than usually – apparently, the pianist had opened the windows in their room to let her hear better. Marinette smiled, leaning on the balcony rail. The person played Liszt beautifully, taking Marinette to that kind, soft universe, where only good things existed – the sunlight, the music, the beauty of the melody. As if the whole city was falling in love, was filled with love – even more than usually, for Paris was always full of romance.

When the pianist finished the piece, the last notes still lingering in the spring air, Marinette clapped. She hoped the person below her would understand how thankful she was for the little moments of happiness their music brought to her daily life.

 

Marinette didn’t notice the moment the note appeared in her apartment. It was delivered very much the same fashion Marinette did with hers – slid under the door.

Even before reading it, Marinette could guess whom it was from.

“When I got your note, I thought it was a noise complaint. But it feels super lovely to be appreciated.”

And a little smiling sun drawn in the corner of the note. Marinette knew that the silliest happy grin was spreading over her face, but couldn’t help it. Didn’t even care, to be honest.

She was happy.

 

The player continued their practices, Marinette continued listening to them. She enjoyed them as much as the first day, now even more encouraged by the fact that the pianist knew about her listening and was, as she allowed herself to think, in some way playing for her.

She wrote them another note a couple days later, about a piece she especially enjoyed. She slid it under the door again, trying her best not to be noticed. She didn’t know why she was feeling nervous about meeting the pianist in person, especially since she almost felt some kind of connection between them. Somehow, she thought that the mystery was a part of the music’s charm, and she was afraid that by getting to know the pianist she will destroy the magic, tying the whole thing to the less exciting real life.

The answer came the same way as before, too: a note saying “You are very kind” and a little rose drawn in the corner.

Marinette put it in the drawer with the first one.

 

A couple of days later, when she came back home from the university, a note was already waiting for her on the floor.

“Got any requests today?”

So the pianist was playing for her. Marinette smiled as she walked in her apartment, holding the note in her hand. It took her a couple of minutes to come up with a Chopin piece, and then a couple more to decide if she should draw something in the paper, too. Finally, she drew a ladybug, and headed out to deliver the message.

She walked down the stairs, then, checking that the hall was empty, approached the pianist’s door -quietly, as usual, and slid the note under the door.

But she only had time to stand back up before the door flew open and Marinette found herself face to face with the mysterious pianist.

Who looked almost like a prince, so beautiful for a moment Marinette almost couldn’t believe her eyes. He was tall, blonde, with beautiful green eyes and a smile that was almost shy, but went straight for Marinette’s heart. For a moment she just stared at him, dumbfounded, because he seemed so perfect, almost like a dream come true.

“Caught ya!” he said, smiling at her, and Marinette tried to smile back, but she wasn’t sure she actually managed to do it. She didn’t think she was in control of her body at that moment. “Would you like to come in and listen to me play from the inside?” She just blinked, breathless, unable to make herself say something – anything. “I’m Adrien, by the way,” he continued, obviously trying to fill the awkward silence caused by her lack of response.

There was a certain softness and simplicity in his voice that made Marinette felt reassured, and she finally managed to make her heart and her mind behave themselves.

“I’m Marinette,” she said, feeling herself blush, but trying to cover her shyness with a smile. “And thank you. I would like that very much.”


End file.
